


Family

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eliot and Quentin are dads, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Slice of Life, Teddy being adorable, deliberately vague tags are deliberately vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: All Eliot needs to be happy is his familiy.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> Just read it, then comment on it. Also, I'm sorry, but not really.

Teddy never plays with the Nintendo Switch perched on the corner of the TV table. It bothers Eliot a little. He's tried to coax his son's interest multiple times because what kid doesn't like Mario? But the boy just giggles and goes back to playing with the awe-inspiring selection of wooden blocks that surround him. Watching him now makes the fondest of smiles pull at the corners of his mouth. The kid's love of blocks had started early, and their neighbor, a woodworker, had helped fuel the obsession. 

“Daddy?” Teddy holds up a long block that had been stained a pale blue.

“What's up, Ru?” Eliot drops the Switch controller onto the couch cushion beside him to give the boy his undivided attention.

“Play blocks!” 

“Sure, Buddy.” Eliot slides to the floor and reaches for the block that Teddy holds in his direction. The bricks are wearing around the edges, and Eliot can see the natural color of the wood at the rounded corners. “Where am I putting this one?” Teddy points to two short towers that the longer blue brick is meant to straddle, and Eliot realizes why Teddy is asking for his help now. He doesn't want them to fall, and Eliot's telekinesis has always made building block towers something of a breeze. The block gets placed, then other pieces get added on top of it. By the time Teddy is satisfied, the tower is almost level with the boy's chin. 

“We should make a picture for papa.” Theo decides as Eliot finishes putting the last brick in place. 

“Sure, Kiddo.” Whatever you want.” Teddy is beaming as he moves to the coffee table and pulls the box of mismatched chalk pieces off the bottom self. While Teddy draws his latest architecture marvel, Eliot reaches for his phone and snaps a picture. That's another thing about Teddy that is a little weird. The kid hasn't asked for a cellphone of his own yet. There are moments that he doesn't even seem aware of technology at all. It's probably a blessing because Eliot knows that too much screen time isn't good for him. Before he can dig too deeply into the oddity of his three-year-old not being glued to a screen, there's a knock on the front door of the Brooklyn apartment he and Quentin had settled into shortly after Margo had won her seat as High King. 

“I'll get it!” 

“Ru, wait!” Before Eliot has a chance to move, Teddy shoots to his feet. The tower cascades across the tiled rug that they are sitting on, and the boy disappears around the corner of the couch where Eliot can't see him. “Ru?” 

“Ru Paul?” Margo asks him as she walks around the edge of the wall that divides the dining room from the living area. There are twin glasses of wine in her hands. 

“Bambi!” Eliot grins at the sight of her and accepts the glass she offers to him once she's sat down on the couch. His head rests against her knee, and his eyes slide closed as her fingers stroke through her hair. He doesn't remember exactly how he and Quentin had managed it, but somehow all the best pieces of their lives had coalesced together. They have Teddy, and Margo, and Julia and the modern conveniences of Brooklyn all rolled up in one big happy ball. Margo's hand continues to play with his hair, and Eliot wishes that Theo would come back because he wants to watch his best friend hold his little boy. Eliot can't picture what it would look like. Suddenly he wants his family all in one place; Quentin should be here too. The unknown knocker knocks again. 

“I've got it!” Eliot hears Quentin holler. He doesn't hear the door open, but a moment later, Quentin walks into the room with a pizza box and a pile of paper plates. “I ordered dinner.” He informs them. 

“I should probably get going,” Margo says as Quentin deposits the pizza on the coffee table in front of them. 

“You just got here,” Eliot complains as she stands. 

“Yeah, well. I have a date so,” Margo shrugs as she finishes her wine. “I can come back anytime you want me, just call.” She waves her phone to emphasize her point. Eliot can't stop the laugh that bubbles in his throat.

“It is nice to have you on speed dial.” Margo hums then reaches down to take one of the pizza slices. It's domestic, like the three of them are back at Brakebills again, and Margo is off on some new adventure while he and Quentin settle deeper into domesticity. Margo leaves them as she's eating the slice than he and Quentin tuck into the pizza as well. “Where's Ru? He should eat.”

“Daddy?” Eliot glances up to find that Teddy's changed into his sleep clothes and is standing in the hallway. “Can you tell me a story before bed?” The stuffed bear that he'd made for Theo when he'd been a few months old is clutched in the boy's hand. All of Teddy's toys are hand made. 

“Sure, little guy.” Eliot drops what remains of his slice back onto his plate then strides across the living room to scoop Teddy into his arms. The boy giggles and stretches his arms out like he's flying as Eliot carries him back to the sofa so Teddy can say goodnight to Quentin, then he settles their son on his hip to take the boy to his room. 

“Story, story, story.” Teddy chants as Eliot settles him in bed and tucks the covers around him. 

“Hush, you.” Eliot soothes as he settles beside him. The kid has a full shelf of books, but Quentin and Eliot have never read him a single one of them to him. Bedtime stories are always verbal, with details that change as bits of the story are remembered or forgotten. It only takes about fifteen minutes for Teddy's eyelids to droop, and another five before he's completely asleep. Eliot snuffs the flickering candle with a twist of his fingers and pads back into the living room on silent feet.

“Mario Kart?” Quentin holds out the extra controller while Eliot takes a moment to strip off his socks and jeans. When he's down to his t-shirt and boxers, they settle against one another and play. Their feet rest on the coffee table on opposite sides of the pizza box, and half-drunk glasses of wine sit on the end tables that bracket their couch. It's possibly the freest and relaxed that Eliot has ever felt in his life. “We should go to bed soon.” Quentin murmurs after about forty minutes.

“Yeah.” They play until they've finished the circuit they had started, then silently walk to their room. Eliot barely remembers his head hitting the pillow or falling asleep. When he wakes up again, he can hear the patter of rain against the window and a knocking on the bedroom door. 

“Daddy?” Teddy's whimper catches the full attention of his sleep-addled brain. 

“Ru? Come here. It's okay.” The door opened enough to allow their five-year-old to slip through. Lightening cracks when the boy is halfway across the room and Theo shrieks then launches himself onto the bed between them. Thunder booms as he tucks his face against Eliot's chest. 

“Teddy?” Quentin sounds groggy with sleep, but he's pushing back the covers to tuck Theodore in between them. “It's just a storm, little guy. You're safe with us.” 

“Something wants in.” Theo lamented. His arm snakes around Eliot's waist, and the boy tucks himself as tightly to Eliot's chest as possible. 

“It's okay, buddy. It's okay. We just won't open the doors.” That settles Teddy a little, and outside the storm seems to be lessening. He's asleep again in no time, and so is Quentin. Eliot lies awake, listens to his husband's soft snores, and silently thanks the higher powers for smiling on him for a change. This is nice, being happy. He wouldn't trade it -- this happy little place that he's found for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> For those confused, though I think it's obvious, this is an alternate universe happy place fic, I won't SAY it's an 'StS' compliant version of Eliot's happy place, but.... *cough cough* there are a lot of hints in there if you're inclined to read into that kind of thing.


End file.
